All in Family

Game Theory

My granddaughter, Calliope, age 5, has a motor with only one speed: full. She doesn’t walk, she runs; and she talks without ceasing, using words in ways only a poet could imagine. And while she’s been reading me stories for years, it turns out she actually can’t read.


My father was dead at 51, a casualty of the manic depression he had fought for years. The New York Times, citing its suicide policy, declined to print his obituary. He lived in a time when mental illness was an embarrassment for families and a weakness for men. For Dad it was a crushing blow.